Published: Monday, February 11, 2013 at 6:10 p.m.

Last Modified: Monday, February 11, 2013 at 6:10 p.m.

Meg Lowman would like to remind Florida's snake experts that anacondas can be seriously hard to find, too, even where thriving and numerous.

Florida doesn't have anacondas, so far. I hope. But the well-known local biologist known as "Canopy Meg" pioneered the use of tree-top platforms to observe wildlife in the Amazon rain forests. She says she's had 10 years of chances to see anacondas on her annual visits there, and has looked hard for them.

She has seen just one.

Her point: Don't be fooled by what happened in Big Cypress Preserve. The pythons are out there.

During the state's first monthlong Python Challenge, some 1,500 hunters brought in only a few dozen pythons.

"I think they expected more like a couple thousand," Lowman said.

Disappointed hunters tromped for days without a sighting. On the first big day, many reporters left without a single photo of a gory python decapitation to boost TV ratings.

Might pythons be less prolific than believed?

State officials say it is too soon to conclude much of anything. They will await research under way on the bodies of the pythons killed.

But whatever is learned there, Lowman is sticking with her prediction: A thriving python population will call Sarasota County home within the decade. The Myakka River area will be a prime spot.

Lowman was among the first to sound the creepy yet fascinating warning that hordes of invasive Burmese pythons were rapidly taking over South Florida's wild wetlands and moving north.

So far, pythons are probably most concentrated south of the hunt area, in Everglades National Park, she said. The problem of python-decimated native species is real and isn't stopping at park boundaries.

But, she said, maybe hunters aren't as good at spotting pythons as everyone — hunters included — had assumed. Unlike some pythons that are killed, most of the time the big snakes are not out sunning themselves in plain sight.

"They're in tall grass," and they are stealthy, Lowman said. When they enter the water or swim nearby, "they don't make a splash."

As she said, the Amazon's anacondas are even bigger, and yet usually go unseen. Hunters here could be missing 100 pythons for every one they kill.

I asked Lowman what she thought of the whole idea of python hunts. I mean, she is a big wildlife lover. Invasive species or not, I'd understand if she blanched at machete-wielding, trophy-hunting snake hackers tromping through the Big Cypress.

Her reply?

She just wishes she could have been there.

"I think it's fantastic they're doing a hunt. I was only disappointed it wasn't accompanied by a recipe book," Lowman said.

When fighting a voracious invasive species like the Burmese Python she said, there is no cause for qualms. She hopes hunters get even better at the job, and that python-skin purses become a fashion trend.

Tom Lyons can be contacted at tom.lyons@heraldtribune.com or (941) 361-4964.

<p>Meg Lowman would like to remind Florida's snake experts that anacondas can be seriously hard to find, too, even where thriving and numerous.</p><p>Florida doesn't have anacondas, so far. I hope. But the well-known local biologist known as "Canopy Meg" pioneered the use of tree-top platforms to observe wildlife in the Amazon rain forests. She says she's had 10 years of chances to see anacondas on her annual visits there, and has looked hard for them.</p><p>She has seen just one.</p><p>Her point: Don't be fooled by what happened in Big Cypress Preserve. The pythons are out there.</p><p>During the state's first monthlong Python Challenge, some 1,500 hunters brought in only a few dozen pythons.</p><p>"I think they expected more like a couple thousand," Lowman said.</p><p>Disappointed hunters tromped for days without a sighting. On the first big day, many reporters left without a single photo of a gory python decapitation to boost TV ratings.</p><p>Might pythons be less prolific than believed?</p><p>State officials say it is too soon to conclude much of anything. They will await research under way on the bodies of the pythons killed.</p><p>But whatever is learned there, Lowman is sticking with her prediction: A thriving python population will call Sarasota County home within the decade. The Myakka River area will be a prime spot.</p><p>Lowman was among the first to sound the creepy yet fascinating warning that hordes of invasive Burmese pythons were rapidly taking over South Florida's wild wetlands and moving north. </p><p>So far, pythons are probably most concentrated south of the hunt area, in Everglades National Park, she said. The problem of python-decimated native species is real and isn't stopping at park boundaries.</p><p>But, she said, maybe hunters aren't as good at spotting pythons as everyone — hunters included — had assumed. Unlike some pythons that are killed, most of the time the big snakes are not out sunning themselves in plain sight.</p><p>"They're in tall grass," and they are stealthy, Lowman said. When they enter the water or swim nearby, "they don't make a splash."</p><p>As she said, the Amazon's anacondas are even bigger, and yet usually go unseen. Hunters here could be missing 100 pythons for every one they kill.</p><p>I asked Lowman what she thought of the whole idea of python hunts. I mean, she is a big wildlife lover. Invasive species or not, I'd understand if she blanched at machete-wielding, trophy-hunting snake hackers tromping through the Big Cypress.</p><p>Her reply? </p><p>She just wishes she could have been there.</p><p>"I think it's fantastic they're doing a hunt. I was only disappointed it wasn't accompanied by a recipe book," Lowman said.</p><p>When fighting a voracious invasive species like the Burmese Python she said, there is no cause for qualms. She hopes hunters get even better at the job, and that python-skin purses become a fashion trend.</p><p><i>Tom Lyons can be contacted at tom.lyons@heraldtribune.com or (941) 361-4964.</i></p>